


Featherlight

by niamosaur



Series: inky suite [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Niam - Freeform, Runaway, this is kinda stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:02:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1672274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niamosaur/pseuds/niamosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the sunlight golden and junk splattered across their small, probably rat-infested apartment, this is home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Featherlight

**Author's Note:**

> so, yeah, this is the first installment (?) in the series of niam blurbs and drabbles that i'll be posting over the next few weeks or something.

Everything feels featherlight, from the caps of his knees pressed to the couch to the cage of his chest flushed flat against Liam’s, his thoughts twirling in empty space.

“Liam,” he mumurs against his boyfriend’s lips, “the phone.”

Liam’s hands tighten around his waist and pulls him closer when he tries to pull away, fingers clutched at his shoulder blades and his white shirt wrinkled at the touch. “No. Stay. Let them leave a message.” His voice is coarse and whiny and a little lazy, thick from sleep, and he leans up to deepen the way their lips are meld together. Doesn’t let go.

"Liam," Niall protests into the kiss without much conviction because he wants this too, wants it to last, but he can’t risk it. "Might be important."

Liam groans deep in his throat and lets go, frowning. “Fine. But if it’s Louis I will bloody kill him.”

Smiling, Niall drops a peck on his boyfriend’s pouting lips and hops off his lap, maneuvering over bags of chips and soda cans and dirty underwear that scatter all over the floor. “Hello?” he breathes through the phone after he picks it up, licking his lips and tasting Liam.

"Niall."

He tenses and his heart feels as if it’s been dropped in a bucket of ice. “Uh. Dad…?” He swallows.

"Where are you?!" He winces at the voice and turns around so Liam doesn’t see the fear on his face. "Is it that Liam kid? You ran away with him didn’t you, you filthy faggots! It wasn’t enough that you had to bring that fag in our home but you actually had the guts to leave your brother and I for him! You’re disgusting!"

Niall tugs on his bottom lips with his teeth. Trembling. Hot tears spike behind his eyes and he feels small, like he’s ten all over again and his Dad had seen him lose to a guy at a fight. His bruises the next day weren’t from the fight at all—his Dad had beat him up because he was too “weak” and “soft”. He doesn’t even know how his father got his phone number but he can imagine him thrashing his bedroom, all flustered and screaming the morning Niall and Liam decided to take off, that there was nothing good for them in that little town anyway. That there was nothing to lose.

Except each other.

"Dad…" His voice is thick with fear and shaky across the single syllable. He doesn’t know what else to say.

"Get your sore arse home right now or I swear to god I will hunt you down and beat the leaving shit out of you and your fvcking boyfriend, you hear?!"

"… no," he breathes, the word tense and tight like he’s about to cry. He is actually. "I-I wont."

There’s silence, aside from the show Liam’s watching on the telly in the background, but Niall can feel the anger that’s building up on the other line, the heavy, staggering breaths. Normally, this is the eye before the storm, before his Dad lays a hand on him. Normally, he’d whimper silently, hoping his Dad doesn’t hear, and wait in still agony for the pain to come. Normally, after this, he’d be bruised and sore all over with barely enough energy to drag himself to his bed and cower beneath the sheets.

Normally, he’s helpless.

Niall turns around so he can look at Liam, watch his eyes that are focused on the screen, the tattooes across his arms twitching when he scoots a bit.

"I guess you’re happy now, huh? I bet your boyfriend is fvcking you real good and you’re enjoying your life, huh, faggot?" his Dad seethes over the phone and it’s almost as if he catches the stale scent of alcohol on his breath, feels the anger in his voice skitter across the sides of his neck and down his whole body. "Guess what, fag, I will hunt you down and rip both of you to pieces like I did to your mother! I will make sure you’re life is as shitty as ours because we’re all going to hell anyway!"

Liam must have felt his gaze because he catches it, returns it, and Niall’s heart flutters at the sight. Liam’s hair is all mussed and messy from where Niall had tangled his fingers on them and his arms are stretched across the backrest, his posture laid-back, the tattoes on his collar bones peeking out where his shirt is hitched a little to the side. He has his feet propped on the small table in front of him.

This is just… Niall has no words. With the sunlight golden and junk splattered across their small, probably rat-infested apartment, this is home.

Liam smiles at him and Niall thinks, this is what he hung on his life for. This is, for the first in his life he realizes, what he deserves. He smiles back.

"I will find you, Niall," his Dad seethes, pulling him down again.

The fear dissipates from his lungs and it’s all lightweight again. He can breathe. “That’s sweet and all Dad, and I hate you and you suck as a person,” he says through the phone, “but you don’t have to, really. I found myself now.”

He hangs up.


End file.
